


Ten Years Coming

by LacePendragon



Category: RWBY
Genre: Brief Mention of Past Suicidal Thoughts, First Aid, First Kiss, Getting Together, Injury, Love Confessions, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Pining, Post V7C5 Probably, Sobriety, set during v7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21691117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LacePendragon/pseuds/LacePendragon
Summary: Qrow gets injured fighting Grimm in Mantle. It's not serious, but he has to go to James anyways, to get cleaned up. James isn't happy, but there's something else going on, an emotion between the two that wasn't there, before.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/James Ironwood
Comments: 30
Kudos: 245





	Ten Years Coming

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up being really similar to _Good To Be Here With You_ and I'm not even sorry. I tried. That's all that matters.
> 
> This was a fic request from Tumblr that got way out of hand because I am predictable. I hope it's okay. Request was from an anon and was "Injured qrow getting patched up by an ironwood who is sick of him being reckless". It ended up including pining!Qrow and tenderness. Oops.

“You know, when I put you with the Ace-Ops, it was with the hope that you’d _stop_ getting injured,” said James, idly. There was a bit of annoyance in that voice that made Qrow want to duck his head, but he couldn’t because James was currently holding his chin. He let his gaze drop to the floor instead, though he only got down to his lap, because he was currently perched on James’ couch in his quarters at the edge of Atlas Academy.

“I know,” said Qrow. “I’m sorry.”

When he’d gone down to Mantle, that night, he’d hoped to find a café, somewhere, to hang out. Marrow had mentioned a few non-alcoholic bars in Mantle, designed mostly for faunus who couldn’t drink due to various reasons, but Qrow hadn’t had a problem getting in. The name helped.

But when Grimm had attacked, he’d gone out to fight, and he’d been the only Huntsman in the area. Two dozen fucking Grimm later, and he’d broken his aura and taken a few awful blows to boot.

He hadn’t wanted to go to a hospital, or the infirmary. He couldn’t go to the kids, because he didn’t want to scare them. That had left James. And while James was usually his first choice in most things, injury wasn’t one of them. He’d known James would be upset. He hadn’t wanted to deal with that.

Hadn’t wanted to disappoint him.

He’d disappointed enough people, lately.

“I…” James sighed. He finished picking the gravel out of Qrow’s face and dabbed at his bruised eye with a cold cloth. Qrow hissed. “Hold still. Let’s hope you don’t need stitches.”

“Least I don’t have a concussion,” muttered Qrow.

James’ hand paused. “That is a bonus.”

He stopped with Qrow’s face and leaned back where he was sitting.

“Right,” said James. “Take your shirt off.”

“I know I’m easy, but you could at least make me chicken nuggets or something,” said Qrow, already unbuttoning his shirt.

James wrinkled his nose. “I—that’s not—chicken nuggets?” The incredulous tone was what did it, and Qrow would have done a lot more than snort if his ribs didn’t hurt.

“I have it on good authority that they’re the superior form of chicken,” said Qrow. He winced as he pulled off his shirt, letting it drop behind him. Shit, that hurt more than he’d thought it would.

“You have bruised ribs.” James’ words were flat. He sighed and dropped his head. “How’s your aura?”

Qrow grimaced, rolling his right shoulder, which gave a twinge. “Still gone,” he said.

James shook his head and got to his feet. “Hang on,” he said. He disappeared around the corner and Qrow took the moment to slump against the couch and close his eyes. _Gods_ if he didn’t hurt. But the pain wasn’t as bad as the proximity. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to disappoint James, it was that he knew James would get right up in his face to clean him up. James would need to touch him, to hold his face, to check him for further injury. To be so up close that Qrow could feel his breath.

He couldn’t take it. Years of drunken debauchery had done little to quell his feelings for James. Feelings he argued against, fought against, and shoved into the depths of his brain until they drowned under the weight of self-hatred and booze.

The problem with being sober, he was realizing, was that it was harder to drown out his emotions and thoughts. No matter what he tried, nothing worked. It was as if the longer he was sober, the stronger his emotions got, and the harder it was for him to shove them down and ignore them.

If he was still drinking, he wouldn’t have to think about all this.

If he was still drinking, he could ignore his problems and lick his wounds in private.

If he was still drinking, he’d probably be dead. The self-hatred that consumed him when he drank had almost won, at Brunswick Farms. In Argus, all that had kept him alive was making sure the kids got to Atlas.

But now, for the first time in almost ten years, Qrow didn’t _want_ to die. Not even in that passive, ‘eh, maybe’ sort of way he felt most days. And it was throwing him off. Not fighting that thought process 24/7 was _strange._ Sure, it was still there in some capacity. He’d spent so long thinking that way that it was burned into his brain like a brand. But it wasn’t active. It wasn’t aggressive. And he hadn’t realized how much time he spent on those thoughts and fighting them back until the alcohol wasn’t there to turn them into an echo chamber.

Ruby kept giving him pamphlets about recovering from alcoholism, and going sober, and one of the biggest reasons that people went back to drinking was missing the security of it. Drinking controlled your life, it took over, and it became the only thing you did. It became your entire personality. Without it, what did you do to fill your time?

Qrow hadn’t had a clue what to do, once he stopped, and he’d ended up asking Winter, of all people, for help.

Which was why he now did needlepoint.

Had he had a point to all of this?

Right. His feelings for James. Without drinking, he couldn’t fight them back any longer, and that meant he was screwed if he kept spending all of his time with James. But spending time with James also kept him from leaning into old habits. But he couldn’t keep using James as a crutch.

James came back into the room, holding an ice pack and a roll of ace bandages in one hand and an applesauce pouch in the other. Qrow only recognized them because Ruby kept stealing them from James’ fridge, which was apparently part of the reason they were there in the first place.

“Here,” said James. He sat down next to Qrow and handed him the pouch. “Applesauce. It will help with replenishing your aura.” Qrow pulled off the plastic lid and stuffed the nozzle in his mouth, sucking on it while James prodded at his ribs, looking for anything worse than bruising. Qrow winced, but kept sipping at his applesauce pouch. This one was watermelon kiwi flavoured. Qrow had no idea how the people who made these got apples to taste like watermelons and kiwis, but he absolutely was not complaining.

Then again, with the embargo, how the hell were applesauce pouches even making it into Atlas? Did they have an orchard somewhere? In another city? Greenhouses? They had to, or else the whole damn kingdom would have scurvy.

Hm.

“I don’t understand how you managed this,” murmured James.

Qrow pulled the nozzle out of his mouth and went for honesty. “I’m not used to fighting sober.”

James’ hands stopped. His gaze flicked up to Qrow and they stayed like that for a moment. James’ expression flickered, as if he couldn’t figure out what to say. His mouth opened and closed. He blinked. His eyebrows drew up on the inner corners and slanted down on the outside edges. His lips parted but that was as far as his mouth opened.

“It’s true,” said Qrow. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, wincing at the pull in his side. “Last ten years I’ve fought almost everything at least buzzed and at worst, hungover.” He sighed, looking away from James. “Including myself.”

James’ right hand, ungloved and cool, rested on Qrow’s cheek. He turned Qrow’s face back toward him. “I’m glad you’re staying sober,” murmured James. “And if that makes it harder for you to fight, I’m happy to find time to spar with you. I don’t want you hurting yourself to better yourself.”

There was something ironic, in that statement, but Qrow couldn’t find it. He was too focused on the roaring in his ears.

Stupid feelings. He missed shoving them down. It wasn’t as if he could _tell_ James. He didn’t deserve James. He had never deserved James, not even on the first day they’d met, some twenty years ago.

James needed an equal. Qrow was the furthest thing from in his inner circle. Hell, Clover was basically better at everything Qrow did, right down to his semblance and protecting his conglomerate of children. Maybe Clover was a better friend, too.

“I don’t understand why you were fighting alone,” murmured James. “Arms up.” Qrow lifted his arms and kept his gaze at the ceiling as James leaned in to wrap ace bandages around his bruised ribs. This part was hard to do alone. He’d fucked it up a few times and ended up making his ribs worse. “You could have called for help.”

“No time,” said Qrow. He inhaled, expanding his ribs so that James didn’t wrap too tight. As if he ever did anything less than perfectly. “Needed to stop them before they hit civilians.”

James frowned. “It was reckless.”

“It was necessary.” He said it with the same defeated tone he said most things in, tonight. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Of course you did,” said James. Qrow opened his mouth to respond, but James kept going. He finished with the bandages and leaned back. “You have authorization to call in Knights. Why didn’t you?”

Qrow blinked. _What?_ “What?”

James furrowed his brow. “Are you so stubborn you’d refuse help? The Knights may not be as good as Huntsmen, but they serve their purpose, and I’ve been working on upgrades.”

“No, no, I’m not. I didn’t…” He shook his head. “I can call in Knights?”

James pressed the ice pack to Qrow’s shoulder and Qrow was torn between hissing and groaning at the intermix of relief and pain that sparked across his shoulder and into his muscles.

“Of course you can,” said James. “You’re one of my closest friends and confidants, Qrow. I gave you full access when I authorized you to hunt in Atlas.” James frowned. “I swore I told you.”

Qrow tried to wrap his head around everything James just said. Authorized to call in Knights? That long? He blinked a few times, his mind focusing on the ‘one of my closest friends and confidants’ part.

“You consider me one of your closest friends?” asked Qrow. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, and now he couldn’t take it back. His voice was rough and shook on the last word.

James gave him a soft look. “Qrow, I consider you to be my _closest_ friend. You’ve always had my trust and my faith. In Vale—” He stopped, cheeks flushing, and looked away from Qrow.

“James…”

“Do you have any other injuries?” asked James, still not looking at him.

Qrow took the hint. “My back,” he said. “I think I took a nasty cut on it. Bleeding stopped but…” He trailed off and picked up his shirt, showing the swath of drying blood on it. “Probably pretty messed up.”

James nodded. “Right. I’ll ask you to turn around then.”

Qrow did. He shifted around and leaned forward, his elbows on his legs and his hands on either side of his face. Hunched over like this, he could feel the long cut tugging at his skin. That one had been before his aura was completely gone. It’d managed to staunch most of the bleeding, but he hadn’t had enough to start healing.

Cold brushed his back and he shivered.

“Sorry,” murmured James. The cold retreated. It must have been his right hand.

“S’fine,” replied Qrow, voice gruff.

A moment later, the cold returned. Then warm, on his left. Fingertips, he could feel, and they skimmed the edge of the cut, marking out its dimensions and checking for infection, for pain, for any sort of debris.

“It’s shallow,” said James. “And not too wide. Shouldn’t need stitches.” He sighed. “Let me disinfect it.”

The couch shifted and Qrow heard James digging around in the first aid kit. He stared, resolute, at the leather couch cushions and tried not to let his frustration show. James had called him his closest friend, then immediately shut down. As if he hadn’t wanted Qrow to know that. Why not? What was so wrong about Qrow knowing? Was James ashamed of him? Qrow had cleaned up his act almost entirely because other people were sick of his bullshit. It was only after being sober for a couple weeks that he’d realized he had his own reasons. Wanting to value himself, wanting to feel worth people’s time, wanting to have a clear head to be a better huntsman, a better uncle, a better _friend._

Was it still not enough for James?

No. James cared. James had hugged him. James was probably just embarrassed. Maybe.

But what had he been about to say?

Qrow rubbed his face over his hands.

Clover’s words echoed back to Qrow, about deflecting compliments and downplaying himself. Right now, he felt like he was doing the opposite, latching on to whatever James said and clinging to it like a lifeline.

But James had always had that effect on him. Being in love with the guy for a decade plus probably didn’t help.

“This might sting,” said James, as if they both didn’t know how much this shit hurt. The disinfectant wipe hit his skin and Qrow hissed. James started at the edges and worked inward, and Qrow bit his tongue to keep himself from making any stupid sounds. For someone who fought Grimm and got beat up for a living, he was a baby about this part. But it stung! No matter what, you couldn’t prepare yourself for that. Unless you were Nora.

Probably the strangest kid he’d ever met.

Qrow picked up his applesauce pouch and slurped at it until it went dry. He used it to avoid thinking about the stinging in his back, and the way James was close enough to his back that Qrow could feel the heat coming off him. It was also a way to keep him from saying anything stupid.

Like his feelings. Or his questions. Or his fears and insecurities about going sober and what he was supposed to do with his time and energy now when needlepoint and “bothering the kids” didn’t work.

He’d already made six fucking throw pillows. At this rate, his room was going to be full of them.

But once the pouch was empty and Qrow had thrown it aside, all he had left was the stinging and his thoughts.

“What were you going to say?” asked Qrow, before he could lose his nerve.

James’ hand paused, for which Qrow was grateful. He shifted to lessen the weight on his leg.

“In Vale,” said James, seemingly picking up where he left off, albeit with a much rougher voice, “when everything fell, I feared I’d never see you again. When I returned to Atlas to build my own inner circle, I set your signal to high alert, so that, the moment you came into range, my Scroll would go off.” He paused. “You didn’t call.”

Qrow stared at the cushions. “Neither did you.”

“No,” said James. “I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you?” asked Qrow. His voice was low, barely audible despite the silence of the room. “You knew I was here. Even before your Golden Boy arrested us.”

He heard James wince. A strong enough noise that Qrow almost felt it, as well.

“I’m sorry,” said James, again. It sounded different, this time. Morose, exhausted, _pained._ “I…” He sighed. “I feared what you must have thought of Atlas and Mantle. That you had grown to hate me, while you’d been gone.”

Qrow swallowed hard, still staring at the cushions. “I could never hate you,” he whispered, though it was closer to a croak.

“Then why didn’t you call me?” asked James. “If you didn’t hold the same fears?”

Qrow shifted, turning around on the couch to face James. His blue, blue eyes were filled with sorrow.

“Who says I didn’t?” he asked. His gaze flickered around the room, but he forced himself to look into James’ morose eyes. He needed James to know that he was telling the truth. That he was holding nothing back. Well, almost nothing. “Lot has happened since Vale fell, James.” He let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t know if you’d still want me around.” He hesitated. There was so much he wanted to say, and so much he couldn’t. “I was scared you wouldn’t need me anymore.”

James stared at him, brow furrowing, emotions flicking across his face that Qrow couldn’t place.

“I don’t need you,” said James. Qrow fought a flinch. _Oh._ He should go. He shifted to get up but James put a hand on his knee and Qrow froze. The metal hand wasn’t holding him down, and there was no weight behind it, so Qrow could get up if he wanted, but that simple touch held him in place.

Qrow swallowed.

James didn’t break his gaze. “I’ve never needed you, Qrow.” He shook his head, though only just. “I have everything I need to run my kingdom. Every hunter at my disposal.” Qrow sucked in a breath. _Clover._ He had no idea what to say. Of course he was obsolete. He’d always been just barely good enough to get by. Now he wasn’t even that.

“I…” Qrow trailed off. Nothing.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t _want_ you,” said James. His cheeks flushed. “In my life, I mean.” He cleared his throat. “I told you, you’re my closest friend. I’ve given you as much authority as I can in Atlas. Anything more and I’d have to give you a military rank to avoid suspicion.”

Qrow blinked. _What?_

His heart swelled with hope and excitement that he couldn’t fight back. James couldn’t be saying what Qrow thought he was saying. Could he?

“And,” said James, “I’ve avoided putting a sixth member on the Ace-Ops for the last two years, to ensure, if you came to Atlas, that one would always be available to partner up with you on missions.”

Clover.

“You mean Golden Boy isn’t my competition? He’s my _teammate?_ ” asked Qrow, unable to hide the shock in his voice. He stared at James. James blushed deeper.

“So to speak,” he mumbled. “I would never make such assumptions. But it was my hope that you would agree to work with someone on the Ace-Ops, though Clover was my first choice.” The hand on his knee squeezed. “I know how much you fear your semblance. I had hoped that being around someone who could counter it would allow you some peace of mind.” He sighed. “Obviously I was wrong.”

Qrow stared. “Why…” He cleared his throat. “Why are you doing all of this for me?”

James’ blush darkened further. “As I said, you’re my best friend.”

Qrow stared at him, pleading with his mind and probably with his eyes. _Please_ , he thought to himself, _please don’t let me be imagining this._

“I worry about you, Qrow,” said James. He gesticulated with his free hand. He didn’t remove the other. Qrow couldn’t help but notice that. “You are reckless, and often arrogant about your abilities. You have no sense of self-preservation. You could very easily die and if such a simple fight could render you so injured—” James stopped himself short. He took a breath. “I can’t…” He bowed his head. “I cannot handle a world in which you do not exist, Qrow.” He whispered his words into his lap. “I thought I did, for a time, and it almost killed me.”

Qrow swallowed. He wanted to focus on the stuff about his fighting, but James was right. He had been like that, in the past, and he was struggling to find a balance, without the booze.

“James… what are you saying?” He reached out and lifted James’ chin with one hand. “Because this doesn’t sound like friendship.” He couldn’t keep the hope out of his voice.

James offered him a tiny, self-deprecating smile. “I’m saying I’m a fool,” he murmured. “A fool who didn’t realize I loved you until I thought I’d lost you.”

The words took the air from Qrow’s lungs and he couldn’t help his reaction – the soft, excited laugh slipped out of his mouth before he could take it back. He grinned, broad and excited.

He wasn’t good enough, his brain said. He wasn’t worthy.

_So become worthy,_ his heart said. _Be everything they all know you can be. Everything James saw him as._

“Qrow?”

“I love you too,” whispered Qrow. He surged forward, took James’ face in his hands, and kissed him. It was warmth and excitement. It was eagerness. It was the taste of knowing that even if he wasn’t worth James _now,_ he could be. He could be. He could be. Because James loved him. James cared about him. James wanted him safe.

Everything else could wait.

And James kissed back, his arms coming up to grip Qrow’s shirt and pull him forward until Qrow fell into his lap. Qrow laughed, the sound in James’ mouth, before lifting a hand to tug at James’ hair and drag him down to deepen the kiss. The slight slick of James’ lips against him own made him smile into the kiss, and the heat of the breath from James’ nose was something Qrow wanted to feel for the rest of his life, as strange as that was.

His beard was soft, softer than any beard Qrow had felt before, and when he pulled back, he rubbed his cheek across it.

James chuckled, his hands sliding down to Qrow’s hips. “That went much better than I expected.”

“Fuck self hatred,” breathed Qrow, his nose bumping James’ as he nuzzled the other man. “I’ve got you.”

James let out a shaky exhale. “Do you really mean that?” he asked.

Qrow pressed their foreheads together and grinned at James. “No, it’s not that easy. But I’ve got you now. I can figure it out.”

“ _We_ can figure it out,” said James.

Qrow smiled. “Yeah, we,” he agreed. “Now take me to bed and show me how to fuck safely with bruised ribs.”

James grinned. “I can do that.”

They needed to talk in the morning, because self-hatred and anger and all that didn’t fade overnight. But Qrow had gotten what he wanted. He had James. Even if he didn’t know if he deserved him. Those fears, those insecurities, those anxieties – they’d all come back. Qrow would probably be fighting them for years to come. But now he could open up to James in a way he thought he couldn’t. That eased it back. Not forever, but for now. Love didn’t solve all his problems, but it provided him a net to rest them upon, or something like that, anyway.

For now, as he followed James to the bedroom, tugging him down to kiss him, Qrow vowed to live in the moment. Tomorrow, he’d deal with all his pain and fear and frustration. He’d deal with his struggles with going sober. He’d deal with his need for hobbies to fill his time.

And he’d absolutely rub it in Clover’s face that the man didn’t have a real partner because James liked Qrow better.

But that could wait. Tonight was about _them._

Qrow was looking forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always super appreciated! Thank you for reading!


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